Perfect Prey

by Helen Fields

  ‘They’re on their way, sir,’ a uniformed officer said, handcuffing Grom. Another hauled Sem Culpa’s head out of the vat, far beyond the point where they needed to check her for a pulse. She was nothing more than faceless meat. Even after everything she’d done, the inhuman violence and suffering she’d caused, Callanach still found himself having to look away.

  They swung Alexina back over the floor to safety, as they killed the generator to allow the water to cool. The lights died with it.

  In the dark, a burning hand slipped into Callanach’s and squeezed his fingers.

  ‘Where’s DC Salter?’ Ava asked whoever could hear.

  ‘DS Lively and DC Tripp are at the scene,’ someone replied. ‘The pathologist is there now although she’s been told we need her here as soon as possible.’

  The lights came on again. Ava took her hand back from Callanach’s. Paramedics lifted Alexina O’Rourke onto a stretcher and began wheeling her out. Grom, no fewer than a dozen officers surrounding him, was escorted to a police car. Callanach’s hand found his mobile but his fingers lacked the will to make the call and find out what had happened to Salter.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Ava and Callanach were delivered to the Royal Infirmary shortly after Alexina O’Rourke. Superintendent Overbeck had insisted on medical examinations in a manner that was only just short of a threat that refusal would constitute actionable insubordination. No one had answered the calls that Callanach had finally had the stomach to make. The officers driving them had no more information. Ava had taken the front passenger seat, nursing her bleeding hands and staring out of the window.

  Callanach had tried to sit normally on the back seat but ended up having to lie across it on his side. Whatever damage he’d done to his coccyx previously had faded into history compared to the pain he was now in. They were taken into Accident and Emergency through the ambulance entrance and seen at once. Callanach could hear Ava in the next cubicle as he was given painkillers and the standard humiliating gown to put on.

  ‘No one’s treating my hands until someone tells me what’s happened to DC Salter,’ Ava was saying.

  ‘I’m Detective Constable Tripp,’ Callanach heard from the corridor, ‘and the DI will want to see me, even if he’s in the middle of receiving treatment.’

  ‘Let him in,’ Callanach shouted. ‘Tripp, I’m in here!’

  The curtain opened and a pale-faced Max Tripp entered, his clothes spattered with blood. For the first few seconds he simply stood staring at the floor.

  ‘Tell me,’ Callanach said.

  ‘DC Salter had no idea what she was walking into,’ Tripp muttered. ‘Once she realised the danger Gladys Talthwaite was in, she couldn’t leave her. The neighbour was supposed to call for backup but didn’t do a good enough job of explaining the circumstances, so the priority wasn’t set high enough. By the time we arrived, Grom had already fled and both Salter and Mrs Talthwaite were down.’

  ‘How did she die?’ Callanach asked.

  ‘Heart attack,’ Tripp said. ‘It was all too much for her.’

  ‘A heart attack?’ Callanach asked. ‘But she was young and fit, even with the pregnancy …’

  ‘I was talking about Mrs Talthwaite, sir, the medics called her time of death while we were at the scene.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Tripp, what happened to Salter? No one has told us anything.’

  ‘She’s in surgery now, that’s why I’m here. DS Lively and I came in with her. We had no idea what was happening your end,’ Tripp said. He sat down on the chair next to Callanach’s bed, head in his hands. ‘Christie lost the baby. There was a wound in her abdomen – she lost more blood than I’d thought was possible – we didn’t think she’d make it here.’

  ‘I have to tell DI Turner,’ Callanach said, pulling himself up, wincing, pushing Tripp’s hand away from his arm. ‘Does Superintendent Overbeck know?’

  ‘The super’s just arrived. She went straight off to find a surgeon to get an update.’

  * * *

  Callanach shuffled one cubicle along to Ava who was in the middle of a phone call, giving lengthy instructions about how Grom should be processed until she could get back to the station. She took one look at Callanach’s face and ended the call.

  ‘Salter’s alive but she’s in surgery. It’s touch-and-go,’ he said.

  ‘The baby?’ Ava asked. Callanach shook his head. ‘This bloody job takes absolutely everything,’ she whispered. ‘I should have been clearer with her. And I should have told everyone else that they weren’t to allocate calls to her. If I’d just been a bit more …’

  ‘She was on my squad, Ava. I wouldn’t even have known she was pregnant if you hadn’t pointed it out. It was one thing on top of another. None of us could have known how it would turn out,’ Callanach said.

  Superintendent Overbeck ripped back the curtain, stalking in and looking each of them up and down.

  ‘Detective Constable Salter is in a critical condition. Her family has been notified. I gather you need an X-ray, DI Callanach. I’ve told the doctor you’re to go to the top of the queue. Hands, DI Turner?’ Ava held them out as if a schoolmistress had demanded a pre-lunch cleanliness check. ‘Those burns are nasty, and I’ve never seen fingers quite that swollen. I need both of you back at the station as quickly as possible. Accept whatever treatment you’re advised to take – I’m not having any lawsuits land on my table because of this – then come back in and interview Alfonz Kopitar.’

  ‘Sorry, who?’ Ava asked.

  ‘The man who killed Helen Lott and Emily Balcaskie,’ Overbeck said.

  ‘Grom,’ Callanach murmured. ‘I’d almost forgotten he was human. It seems odd that he has a normal name.’

  ‘He’s the least of our problems,’ Overbeck replied. ‘We’re still holding Wesley O’Rourke who already has a lawyer and an attitude. I gather you reached the conclusion that he was somehow responsible for all this.’

  ‘He is,’ Callanach said.

  ‘Then you’d better figure out a way to prove it, because time is not on our side. His lawyer says charge him or release him.’ Callanach sighed. ‘Other than that, I should thank you both for not fucking up so badly that Alexina O’Rourke also died. I’m afraid I can’t see a way of being any more complimentary than that. Sort yourselves out, then close this case down. The station’s a frigging war zone.’

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  DC Tripp was making coffee when he was summoned to DCI Edgar in the Cyber Crime Unit incident room. Every desk was deserted. Tripp remained standing in the absence of an invitation to sit, as Edgar walked along lowering the blinds over the windows with a view into the corridor.

  ‘DC Tripp,’ Edgar said, his voice little more than a murmur. ‘I’m going to give you a chance to accept what you did. If you tell the truth now, I’ll settle for your badge and your career. Fuck with me one second longer than that and I’ll have you charged.’

  ‘Charged with what, sir?’ Tripp asked.

  ‘There’s a long list. I’m not sure if you should be part of the overall conspiracy or if your end of it was merely obstructing the investigation. Either way, you’ve seen your last day as a serving police officer. So tell me, did you volunteer the information or did DI Callanach force you to hand it over?’

  ‘Sir, I have no idea whatsoever …’

  ‘Spare me the bollocks, Tripp,’ Edgar threw the nearest chair. It spun and hit a glass pane, dragging half a blind down with it. ‘Someone tipped Ben Paulson off. Polly reported that Paulson received a telephone call just as we were about to go in. Paulson shouted at his journalist friend to lock the door before we’d even knocked. There’s no other way he could have known we were there. Only you had access to that information. Not one other officer from your force was involved. I told you right from the start what would happen if you breached confidentiality …’

  ‘It wasn’t me, sir. I knew you had an officer undercover but I never came into contact with them and I certainly didn�
�t phone Ben Paulson,’ Tripp said, aware that people going past were trying to see what the shouting was about.

  ‘You were in the briefings, you had access to the files, you knew about the Below Par Cafe. Who the hell else could have done it?’

  ‘It was me,’ Ava said as she entered, walking over to fix the damaged blind. Callanach followed, closing the door behind them. ‘I phoned Paulson and warned him. About the raid, about Polly, the whole lot. And you need to keep your voice down, DCI Edgar. The entire floor can hear everything you’re saying and Tripp deserves better than that.’

  ‘Stay out of this Ava, and don’t you dare try to take the blame for this little faggot. My whole investigation is fucking ruined. Someone’s going down for it, and if it has to be your band of mates here, so be it!’

  ‘Then it’ll be me,’ Ava said, sitting down, keeping her voice low. ‘I saw you with Polly, Joe. I wanted to talk to you so I followed you away from the station. You went towards Murrayfield, I got suspicious, saw the girl get into your car. I recognised her from the cafe and put two and two together. It wasn’t difficult.’

  ‘You’re admitting deliberately going behind my back to wreck my investigation? What the fuck did you think you were doing? Is this about him?’ Edgar pointed at Callanach who was staying well back. He had no intention of insulting Ava with any sort of macho standoff.

  ‘It was about Ben Paulson. At the time he was our best lead and I was following you to discuss it. Paulson was doing his best to help catch two murderers. He doesn’t deserve prison, Joe.’

  ‘Have you completely lost your mind? Is this grief or is that what you’re going to use as your excuse when I report you? Only I seem to remember you going through most of your life not giving a flying fuck about your mother, so it seems a bit of a stretch for you to play that card now.’

  Ava stood up. Tripp looked away. Callanach concealed his fists in his pockets.

  ‘If you’re going to report me, Joe, then go ahead and do it. But understand that the whole thing comes out if you go down that path. I asked you for help. I phoned and requested access to Paulson to save a woman’s life and you decided that your potential promotion was worth more.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Edgar said, taking a step closer to Ava, barely inches between their faces. She stood her ground. ‘Only I don’t recall that. There was a conversation. You were weeping, not making any sense. I told you I was concerned about you and that I thought you should withdraw from active duty immediately. You reassured me that you were fine and put the phone down.’ He grinned, lowering his face the last short distance into hers. ‘Don’t ever threaten me again.’

  ‘Oh Joe,’ Ava sighed. ‘I recorded it. I guess I knew what your reaction would be before I even dialled your number. I just needed to be able to listen to the conversation again later, when my head was clearer. To figure out if you and I …’ she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s not a threat, Joe. If you try to hurt me, or discredit Tripp or Callanach, I’ll release the recording to the papers. And I’ll take whatever comes my way for doing so. I’ll lose my job, probably go to prison for revealing your undercover officer, but you’ll face trial by press. And no one will want you anywhere near a public position again. It’s over, Joe. You and me, this case. Move on to the next investigation. Your career will recover.’

  Edgar brushed Ava’s hand off his shoulder with an expression that suggested she might have some sort of disease, stepping back and looking around as if only just remembering there were other people in the room.

  ‘You’re actually choosing these two over me? Over us? I thought you had more going for you than that. The constable here is gay, and the pretty one in the corner couldn’t get his dick hard if his life depended on it. Which one is it you think is going to hold your hand at your mother’s funeral and keep you warm in bed afterwards?’

  A silence rolled through the room like tumbleweed.

  ‘You made this about sex?’ Ava asked. There was no reply. Edgar’s hands were balled at his sides, head down, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. Callanach took his hands out of his pockets and stepped forward, scared only that if he started punching he might forget how to stop. ‘My best friend is gay. You never had a problem with Natasha.’

  ‘It’s different with women, that’s just a bit of fun. It’s unnatural for men,’ Joe smiled. ‘It’s DI Callanach I was more interested in. Did you think I wouldn’t have access to your files?’ he asked Callanach. ‘Your obligatory sessions with the Interpol psychologist before you’d served your notice made particularly interesting reading. Seems that girl you raped really got inside your head.’

  ‘That’s enough, Joe, we’re finished,’Ava moved between them.

  ‘Don’t waste your time sticking up for him,’ Joe smirked. ‘An impotent rapist hardly seems your type.’

  ‘His neighbour tells me differently,’ Ava said. ‘So whatever you read, you were ill informed. Now you need to leave this room, this police station and this city. Before something happens that can’t be brushed under the carpet.’

  ‘There’s the matter of our engagement, in case you’d forgotten. And a ring that cost me the deposit on a new Porsche.’

  ‘Oh bugger, yes, the ring,’ Ava said, fumbling in her pocket. She held up a mangled lump of charred metal with a chunk of dull stone holding on by a couple of scraps. ‘My hands got badly burned by the rope and the steam. They were so swollen that the doctor insisted that the ring had to be cut off. The stone will have kept its value though and I’m sure you can have the gold melted down. Apologies.’ She picked up one of Joe’s hands and dropped the mess of jewellery into it. ‘You’re a misogynistic, homophobic, arrogant, selfish moron. Feel free to tell everyone we know that I wasn’t worthy of you, I really don’t care. Just as long as I never, ever hear from you again.’

  ‘Really? How about one more fuck for old times’ sake, before I go?’ Joe asked.

  Callanach raised his fist, barging towards Edgar, bringing his arm crashing down towards his face. Ava turned and blocked the blow, sending Callanach off balance, pain spearing through his lower back as he sprawled across the floor.

  ‘I’d have thought he’d have learned his lesson after the blanket party my boys threw him,’ Edgar laughed. ‘You didn’t want him scarring his perfect fingers, Ava, is that it?’

  ‘No, that’s not it,’ Ava said. ‘It just seems to be my turn rather than his.’ Ava ignored the throbbing in her hands, made the best fist she could manage given the bandages, and hit. The punch was dead on target, smashing into Edgar’s solar plexus, driving the breath from his lungs, leaving him reaching for a chair to steady himself, staggering to the side.

  ‘Get out, Joe,’ Ava said. ‘And count yourself lucky that Alexina O’Rourke is still alive. At least you don’t have her blood on your hands.’

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Ava was nowhere to be found so Callanach had returned to his office and his stash of painkillers.

  ‘Can we come in?’ Ben asked from the corridor. He and Lance were stood at his door. They had the unkempt look of people who had recently been bundled into police vehicles and kept in rooms usually occupied by people with scant regard for hygiene. Lance was balancing on one leg, his other ankle wrapped in a hefty bandage.

  ‘You’d better,’ Callanach said. ‘If you stand there looking that suspicious, someone will arrest you again.’ They closed his door quietly. ‘I assumed you were still in custody. What happened?’

  ‘They couldn’t get anything at all from my files. When DCI Edgar grabbed Lance all the wires were ripped out from my computer. I had it rigged to do a system wipe if it wasn’t closed down properly. No evidence against me meant no evidence against my alleged co-conspirator here,’ Ben said, looking at Lance.

  ‘Can you retrieve anything from the darknet site, Ben? Anything at all that might help us convict Wesley O’Rourke for what he did?’ Callanach asked.

  ‘It’ll be long gone,’ Ben said, shaking his head. ‘It’s the same reaso
n why Edgar needed to arrest me with my system up and running. Once the computer is shut down, the evidence isn’t accessible. The website will be locked.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Luc,’ Lance said.

  ‘Vous aviez pas le droit,’ Callanach said, forgetting himself, retreating back into French as he tried not to raise his voice. ‘You had no right.’

  Ben took a step towards Callanach. ‘That’s not fair,’ he said. ‘You want to blame someone, blame me. If I hadn’t been involved with The Unsung …’

  ‘I knew what you’d done from the start,’ Callanach said, ‘but I expected you to think more clearly about the consequences,’ he directed at Lance. ‘Wesley O’Rourke organised the murders of four completely innocent people under the most horrific circumstances.’

  ‘And the man next to me would have spent years of his life incarcerated after helping us. Alexina O’Rourke would likely be dead if Ben hadn’t followed the trail her husband left. Did you want to spend the next decade visiting the man you were indebted to?’ Lance asked.

  ‘A murderer is going to walk free. We got precisely nothing from his laptop and everything else is just motive. It was all for money, Lance. He spilled all that blood for greed. Calling him a psychopath doesn’t even start to describe him!’ Callanach shouted.

  ‘Do you think I’m unaware of the cost of what I did?’ Lance yelled back. ‘I’ve got to live with that every day for the rest of my life. But I’d make the same choice again tomorrow because when you get to my age, you realise the value of loyalty. Doing the right thing often comes at a cost. I’m of a generation that does not hang its friends out to dry, so find something else on Wesley O’Rourke.’

  ‘You think it’s that easy?’ Callanach said. ‘That there’ll be a convenient bit of tax evasion lurking in the shadows, or that his DNA will miraculously pop up in relation to some unsolved crime? That’s not how it happens.’